Brother Fish (65 page)

‘Did he, you know, the governor, do it?' Wendy shook her head and was about to explain when the ballroom suddenly went silent.

A bloke in striped pants and tails entered from a door on the stage and stood for a moment until the room was completely silent. He cleared his throat. ‘Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Government House. My name is Thomas Mathews, and I'm the official secretary to the governor. May I ask you please to be upstanding when His Excellency enters the room and remain standing for the national anthem.'

Gloria nudged me, and whispered, ‘That's the one who signed the letters.'

The secretary then announced, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, His Excellency, the Governor of Tasmania!' The governor walked onto the stage and stood at the centre and the band struck up ‘God Save the Queen'. When it was all over he sat on this big chair, and then his secretary said, ‘Please be seated.' Talk about scrambled egg! This bloke was covered with the stuff, from his chest to down the sides of his cut-away coat, which went almost to the floor. It was tassles and gold embroidery everywhere you looked, and must have weighed a ton!

Everyone who was anyone was there, dressed to the nines. On the official side there was the Premier of Tasmania, Sir Robert Cosgrove. I only knew this because Nicole Lenoir-Jourdan had pointed him out when we entered the ballroom. There were also lots of politicians, several mayors with their gold chains draped around their necks, judges in wigs, high-ranking army, air force and navy officers with enough fruit salad on their chests to cover an army blanket, and civilians galore wearing medals on the lapels of their suits and war medals on their chests. It was altogether a dead-serious occasion, and I wondered how we'd ever got there in the first place. This was definitely
not
McKenzie country. But here we were anyway, everyone looking beaut, Gloria and Sue changing colour in their shantung dresses every time they moved and the disgrace ban and pinch-of-the-proverbial curse both about to be lifted forever.

The secretary would call out a name, mostly an old bloke, and he would go up to get his Officer of the Order of the British Empire or Member of the Order of the British Empire. The governor's secretary would then read out why each candidate had been honoured. Then the governor would say a few words to them and pin on their medal. After each presentation, everyone clapped.

At last the secretary announced, ‘Your Excellency, may I introduce Private Jack McKenzie, who has been decorated with the Military Medal.' Wendy squeezed my hand on one side and Gloria on the other, and glancing at Gloria I could see she'd got her hanky out, her eyes already watery.

I walked to the stage, climbed the three steps, stood to attention in front of the governor and bowed my head, which was like a sort of official nod instead of a salute I suppose.

‘Ah, Private McKenzie. I have been looking forward to meeting you,' the governor said. He hadn't said this to any of the others, and I wasn't sure how to reply – or even if I should.

‘Thank you, sir . . . er, Your Excellency. Me too,' I replied, panicking. There was a bit of a titter from the front row, but the governor cleared his throat and there was dead silence again. The secretary had been reading out the blurb for each of the recipients, but now the governor reached out and accepted the citation and read it himself.

‘The 3rd Battalion, Royal Australian Regiment, was defending an area north of Kapyong on the 23rd and the 24th of April 1951. D Company had been assigned the role of right-flank protection on the feature 504 and the ridge line to the north-east. Twelve Platoon was the company's forward platoon, and 8 Section the left-forward section of this forward platoon. On the morning of the 24th of April 1951, the enemy in strength maintained continuous attacks against this section's position for a period of five to six hours. Private McKenzie's own position took much of the enemy assault each time they attacked, and on each occasion the enemy was repulsed with heavy casualties.

‘Private McKenzie showed outstanding courage of a very high order and was an inspiration to the remainder of the hard-pressed section.

‘Later in the day, Private McKenzie was near 10 Platoon when they were mistakenly bombed with napalm. He disregarded the danger of exploding grenades and other ammunition set off by the flames racing through the position to go to the aid of the casualties.

‘Private McKenzie showed by his actions a devotion to duty that was an inspiration to the entire company.'

It didn't sound a bit like it was, and it didn't feel like me he was talking about.

Just when I thought he'd finished, the governor looked up at the crowd and added, ‘I have since discovered that in November 1951, Private McKenzie was wounded in a patrol action against a superior Chinese force and taken prisoner of war.' He handed the citation back to the secretary, who handed him the medal, which he pinned to my chest. ‘Well done, soldier,' he said, so that everyone could hear. ‘The Battle of Kapyong will go down in history as one of Australia's great military feats. Furthermore, your endurance and fortitude as a prisoner of war was a great personal achievement, where despite torture and extreme hardship you maintained your integrity. Our nation is justly proud of you.' He paused, and smiled. ‘I am informed that Private McKenzie has brought a friend with him today, Private James Pentecost Oldcorn of the American infantry, whom he credits with saving his life as a prisoner of war on more than one occasion. I extend my country's good wishes to you, Private Oldcorn, and hope your stay with us will be a pleasant one.'

To my amazement, people started to clap. The governor waited until the applause subsided and then shook me by the hand. I pulled myself to stiff attention and bowed my head in that sort of a nod again. ‘Perhaps we can have a chat a little later. I'd like to meet your American friend,' he said softly.

When I got back to my seat Wendy was crying in the arms of an equally tearful Gloria, Sue was sniffing, and Nicole Lenoir-Jourdan was dabbing her eyes furiously with a lace handkerchief. I put my arms around Wendy and held her to my chest. There was nothing I could possibly say – she was with me but grieving for Bluey Walsh, and that was okay by me. She was perhaps lucky Bluey hadn't lived. In my mind's eye I could see the little Chinese soldier sitting beside me in the field hospital, his body blackened, only his eyes moving, accusing me, the rest of him welded in a seated position, knees up to his chest, arms permanently fused to his kneecaps by napalm. It was good she could cry for the memory of a laughing, happy young bloke beside her on his bicycle going down to the fishing shack on the Tamar.

The ceremony went on a bit longer and several firemen and a bloke from the Forestry Commission got awards, and then we were told to be upstanding. The governor took his leave and we all traipsed out into the reception rooms for refreshments. Strangers were coming up and congratulating me, and then the premier came up and shook Gloria's hand and congratulated her over raising me. I thought she was going to faint on the spot. But that was nothing compared to when the governor entered. He'd changed his gear and was now in a grey suit, and was accompanied by his wife. He went over to the premier, shook his hand and then shook the hands of several of the other big nobs – judges, and people like that. Then he looked around and saw Jimmy, who wasn't hard to miss as he stood about a foot higher than most of the people in the room. He excused himself, and turned and walked towards us. Thank God there was a table close by to rest our teacups and cake on before he came up. ‘I think I'm gunna faint,' Gloria said, bringing her fingers up to her mouth. ‘Oh, dear, I've been cryin' – my make-up!' she choked.

‘It's fine, Mum,' Sue reassured her, but I could see she was pretty nervous herself, rubbing her gloved hands down the sides of her waist. Wendy had this smile on her face that would melt an iceberg. She knows it camouflages any nervousness she may have. Nicole Lenoir-Jourdan, on the other hand, was perfectly composed, though you could never tell what was going on inside.

Behind me I heard Steve say to Cory, ‘Shit, what now?'

Jimmy seemed okay. ‘Here come da governor!' he announced, which made us relax and Wendy giggle.

Jimmy and I jumped to attention as he came up. The governor smiled. ‘Take it easy, chaps,' he said, and turned to Gloria. ‘And you must be Mrs McKenzie?' Gloria nodded dumbly – for once in her life she was lost for words. ‘How do you do?' he asked, and extended his hand.

Gloria clasped his hand in hers and curtsied. ‘Good, thanks, Your Excellency. Thanks for the invite,' she said, regaining her composure.

The governor turned to me. ‘Perhaps you'd like to introduce me to your family and friends, Private McKenzie?'

I did as he asked, introducing each of us in the order of age, leaving Jimmy for last so that I could single him out. But when we got to Wendy, who wore her break-your-heart smile, he said, ‘How very nice to meet you, Miss Kalbfell. May I offer my sincere condolences to you on the death of Private Harry Walsh, who, I am assured, was a brave soldier and fine man.'

Well, I can tell ya, we were gobsmacked. What a bonzer sort of a human being he turned out to be, doing his homework on Wendy like that. Wendy lost her composure for a moment, her bottom lip quivering, but then immediately regained it and smiled – although her eyes glistened and she reached out and took my hand. ‘Thank you, Your Excellency, you're very kind,' she said quietly.

I introduced the twins, who kept their eyes on their boots when they shook his hand, and then I turned at last to Jimmy. ‘And this is my great friend, Jimmy Oldcorn, Your Excellency.'

Jimmy drew to attention and took the governor's extended hand. ‘I is honoured, Yo' Excellency. Dis a great day foh Brother Fish an' I thank yoh foh invitin' me.'

The governor smiled. ‘It's a pleasure to have you. How is your leg coming along?'

‘It fine, Yo' Excellency, jus' fine. I done me a complete re-coo-per-ration in dis fine country. Brother Fish an' his family, dey been real good to me.'

‘Brother Fish?' the governor asked, suddenly confused.

Jimmy pointed towards me. ‘Dat Jacko. He called dat because o' da “Fish Song” and his harmonica when we prisoners of war,' Jimmy explained, no doubt leaving the governor even further confused.

The governor turned to me. ‘You play the harmonica? I've always been rather fond of the little instrument but could never get past “Daisy, Daisy”. It looks so easy, but it's dammed difficult to master.'

‘He da master!' Jimmy chuckled. ‘He da best. Brother Fish done save our lives with da “Fish Song” and his harmonica.'

‘I don't suppose you have your harmonica with you?' the governor asked me.

‘No, Your Excellency,' I said, vastly relieved.

‘Yes we do!' Gloria said, holding up her big black bag.

Oh Jesus! Bloody Gloria's tricked us!
I was suddenly overcome with embarrassment. That's why she'd demanded the keys to our rooms in the boarding house – her excuse to get an extra handkerchief had been to nick our harmonicas. I should have bloody known.

‘Would it be too much to ask you to play this “Fish Song” for us?' the governor asked quietly.

‘What – here, now?' I said, too surprised to remember to add ‘Your Excellency'.

‘Of course! If you'd rather not, I completely understand. However, it could just add a little bit to the proceedings. I do get so very tired of that damned quartet playing Mozart and Brahms. Never was too fond of Jerry music.'

‘Jimmy can sing it, Jacko'll take the lead and we'll be the backing,' Gloria volunteered, bold as brass and back in charge, bossing us around as usual.

‘Oh, you all sing?' the governor asked.

‘No, we play the harmonica – modern and classical,' Gloria said proudly, dead chuffed with the outcome. Then she remembered and added, ‘Your Excellency.'

The governor laughed. ‘That's excellent!' He seemed genuinely pleased, and motioned for his aide-de-camp, the lieutenant in the white uniform, to come closer.

So there we were up on this little stage, previously occupied by the quartet, who'd taken their instruments through to the kitchen and were now munching cake and holding cups of tea and looking, I thought, a bit superior as we got ourselves organised in a half-circle around the microphone.

People had started to crowd closer, sensing something was about to happen – all the dignitaries and big nobs, as well as the folk like us. The governor stepped up and addressed the crowd from the microphone. ‘I have just heard the beginnings of what I think may turn out to be a remarkable story,' he announced. ‘The McKenzie family, along with Private Jimmy Oldcorn, will honour us with a performance of what is known as “The Fish Song”. He paused momentarily, and turned to Jimmy. ‘Perhaps, Private Oldcorn, you would introduce the song and give us the background before the performance begins?'

We all knew Jimmy was good – a raconteur not easily equalled – but now he excelled himself, telling the story of the North Korean hospital cave and giving me much too much of the glory when it really belonged to him.

‘Ladies and gennelmen, and o' course Yo' Excellency,' he began. ‘Iffen my fren Jack McKenzie he got dis medal from yo' queen for bravery at Kapyong, it ain't nothin' compared to da bravery he done show when we prisoner o' war. I gonna try mah best to be respectful o' da occasion here and da del-lee-cate feelin's o' da ladies present, but iffen I gonna tell o' true bravery it ain't no purty story.'